


Storybrooke's First Annual Sleepout

by Endangered_Slug



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, I thought I put this up here last year, Oops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-21 01:38:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10675026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Endangered_Slug/pseuds/Endangered_Slug
Summary: Belle organizes a Winter Sleepout to raise money and awareness for homeless youth. It's a resounding failure, until, much to her surprise, it isn't.From a prompt on Tumblr.





	1. Chapter 1

Belle tugged her knit cap down over her ears and brought her knees up to her chest, pulling her down sleeping bag up over her shoulders as she waited for another person to show up for Storybrooke’s first annual Winter Sleepout

March in Maine was never nice. Snow, sleet, rain, mud — they could expect every sort of insult from the weather just as the rest of the country was beginning to feel the first warmth of spring. Back home, belle had participated in the annual event ever since she was in school; gathering with a group of her friends to sleep out for one night to help raise awareness and money for the homeless.  When she moved to Maine for her new job, she was saddened to learn that there wasn’t a similar program available, or at least none that were local to her area, but she figured someone had to to be the first to start it and that someone would just have to be her.

She’d flyers up in her library for three months along with a large jar for donations on the circulation desk, sadly only boasting of a few nickels and one wrinkled up dollar bill. She’d begun to include half sheets with the information whenever anyone checked books out in the hopes that someone would at least ask her about it. She felt that if she could just explain the idea to people then they would be more enthusiastic about it.

She found a lot of flyers crumpled up on the ground outside the library vestibule and littering the curb. The next unpopular program she would have to establish would be a public clean up. The townsfolk were liberal in their disregard for where their trash went.

She forged ahead despite the lack of interest, trying to drum up a group of her friends to participate, or at least show up for an hour or two in support, but they had no inclination to sit outside in March no matter how good the cause. Given the weather, Belle supposed she couldn’t blame them, but in her heart she was disappointed that they were so unsympathetic.

Tonight was the night and she was determined to go through with it even if no one else wanted to. Belle decided to brave the elements and sleep in the alcove of the library’s front doors. It offered a little shelter from the wind, but it still counted as sleeping out of doors. She’d informed the sheriff of her intentions lest they arrest her for vagrancy, gathered up her sleeping bag and all her woolens, a book and a small flashlight, and plunked herself down on the brick entryway promptly at six o’clock when the library closed.

It may be symbolic, but dammit, she was going go through with it.

An hour passed, then two and Belle spent more time watching the traffic roll by than in reading her book. She still held out hope that someone would join her, but that hope faded away when not even her friends came by to check on her. One by one, the town put itself to sleep, the lights of storefronts winking out as the shops closed until the only light left was from Mr. Gold’s Pawnshop and the blinking red streetlight at the intersection.

Belle stared at Mr. Gold’s shop, watching as he moved around the front room putting things away and going about the business of locking up. He always worked late and rarely socialized. When she first moved to town, Belle was warned against him. Was told that he was the devil incarnate, that he owned every property in town and made you pay through the nose for it. That he loved to make deals where you found yourself on the short end of the stick. That he wouldn’t spit on you if you were on fire.

She didn’t know about any of that personally and, to be frank, she was beginning to think those people were a bunch of idiots. Mr. Gold, while reserved, had always been unfailingly polite to her. Granted, she had never needed to borrow money from him and the city owned her apartment so she didn’t have to deal with him in a professional capacity, but she always liked the man, with his sweet accent and his rare smiles. She would have liked to get to know him better, but understood that he preferred to keep to himself. Belle wouldn’t push anyone into a friendship they didn’t desire so she contented herself with smiling at him whenever they passed and trying to engage him in conversation whenever he came into the library, which wasn’t terribly frequent she had to admit. He was was able to afford any book he wanted, there was no need to borrow them she supposed.

The lights in the shop went out abruptly and Belle watched as the man emerged from his shop, locking up behind him before turning his head to look in her direction. He seemed a bit wrong to her, but she couldn’t place her finger on it. He tucked his keys into a pocket, then, without looking for cars because there was none to be found at this time of night on a Sunday, crossed the street towards the library.

It wasn’t until he came closer that Belle realized what seemed off about him, why the silhouette was all wrong. He wasn’t wearing his usual crisp suit, but had changed into street clothes. On his feet were thick boots instead of the Italian loafers he typically wore and she stared them in confusion as they stopped in front of her. She lifted her eyes, taking in the jeans and the bulky fisherman’s sweater and the battered leather jacket that topped it all.

“Tonight’s the Sleepout?” he asked despite the fact that she was currently sitting in her sleeping bag outside her place of work instead of holed up in her heated apartment like a normal person.

“Uh, yes,” she said stupidly, wondering what he was about.

He nodded his head once then, to her surprise, slowly sat down beside her, wincing as he stretched out his leg against the hard bricks. He lay his cane next to him, setting it down as quietly as possible as if any noise would be unwelcome.

“You’re joining me?” she gasped, incredulous that the hated Mr. Gold was the only one in town with enough compassion to show up that night.

The only answer he gave was to take out a knit cap from his pocket and yank it down over his head, his long hair framing his face in the pale light.

She stared at him, her mouth hanging open as words failed her. He avoided her gaze, merely tucked his hands under his armpits in a practiced maneuver and breathed out gust of air that hung in the cold night like a cloud.

“Thank you, Mr. Gold,” she said when she found her voice again.

He gave her a soft sort of smile before tucking his chin onto his chest, refusing to even look at her.

They stayed like that for a long time, each one silently curled up trying to conserve their body heat at the night grew colder. Belle eyed him every once in awhile, noting the way the tip of his nose and the sharp bones of his cheeks had turned a bright cherry red. He was shivering, but steadfast and she realized that there was no way he would make it through the night without her.

“Mr. Gold?” she asked, bringing her hand out of the warmth of her sleeping bag to touch him on the shoulder.

He looked at her, his eyes dark and unreadable.

Belle unzipped the bag, opening it wide enough to let him in, the burst of cold air making her gasp and shiver. “There’s room enough for two in here,” she said, her teeth already beginning to chatter.

He stared at her for a minute before he scooted over, tucking his legs into the sleeping bag and scooting down until his shoulders were covered. It was impossible for them both sit upright in it, so Belle found herself sinking down with him until they were both lying on the hard sidewalk facing each other in the darkness of the night. He kicked off his boots, but left them inside the bag to keep them warm and Belle found herself doing the same, wondering why the idea hadn’t even occurred to her before. Belle felt his toes poking at her shin before he moved his legs with a brief apology.

“Thank you,” he said once they were situated as comfortably as possible.

“I wasn’t going to let you freeze, Mr. Gold,” she told him seriously, watching his face. He was handsome, she realized with a start. How had she never noticed before?

“Thank you anyway, Miss French,” he repeated, crossing his arms over his chest again, tucking his hands under his armpits once more.

The sleeping bag grew warm again and Belle was glad she’d invited him in. She grew almost toasty and she shucked off her parka, balling it up into a pillow to save her neck from cramps.

They watched each other through the night until Belle felt her eyes grow heavy, sleep just minutes away. She didn’t fight it, just let it pull her under knowing she was safe in this small town as long as Mr. Gold was with her.

She was nearly out when his voice snapped her out of the waiting slumber.

“I know what it’s like,” he said softly, his accent doubling down until she had to think about what he’d said for a moment before it registered.

“What’s like?”

It was a while before he spoke again and when he did it was with a reluctant forbearance that plucked at her heartstrings.

“I wasn’t always wealthy. Didn’t always have a home.”

She lifted her head, straining to see him in the dark. “You didn’t have a home?” she asked, her chest hurting at the thought.

“No.”

“When was this?”

“Oh,” he sighed. “Long time ago. Back when I was young and stupid.”

Belle tried to imagine it, the fearsome Mr. Gold as a youth sleeping rough and not knowing where his next meal would be or if he would survive the night. She reached out and touched his hand, curling her fingers around his, squeezing them tightly.

“I’m glad you were able to break free from that,” she told him truthfully.

He gave a short bark of laughter, his shoulders shaking. “Me, too, Miss French, believe me.”

She smiled with him, tugging him closer until her head was tucked up under his chin and his arms wrapped around her. Conserving body heat was what she’d told him, but she just needed to feel him underneath her, feel how his frame fit so well with hers and how buttery soft his leather jacket felt underneath her cheek and the soft strands of his hair tickling her forehead..

He played with the curls that tumbled out from underneath her cap, stroking them like he would a cat, his strong arms holding her close as he breathed warmth onto her.  They spoke quietly through the night. Talking about how they both came to a small town in Maine so far from each of their homes. She told him about her dreams of seeing the world and he told her about his son. They spoke of their futures that seemed to meld together, making plans to see the world, to visit family, and of quiet nights at home.

She fell asleep like that, lulled to sleep by the town monster who wasn’t a monster, but a shy man who cared more than he let on and, when she awoke, she found herself still wrapped up in his arms, warm and safe and feeling as if the day was the start of something important, something she’d been waiting for all her life but didn’t fully realize until now.

She craned her head to look up at him. He was still asleep, breathing softly, the night’s stubble a stark contrast to his usually impeccable façade. Fascinated, she reached up to scratch at it with her fingertips when he opened his eyes at her touch.

“I’m sorry,” she said, sheepishly, tucking her hand back under the sleeping bag.

He gave her a sleepy smile and shook his head, the words that came so easily in the dark having left him completely in the light of day.

“S’okay,” he said, stretching his legs out with a groan.

The day was overcast and cold and, even though she desperately wanted to get up off the hard bricks, she was reluctant to emerge from the warm cocoon of her sleeping bag and Mr. Gold’s arms. Still, she sat up, rolling her head a bit to work out a kink that hat lodged in her neck over night.

Gold watched her, his brown eyes squinting up at her while a fond smile played on his lips before he looked away, his cheeks flushing adorably. He reached down and grabbed his boots, wincing as he slid his right foot into it.

They crawled out of the sleeping bag, groaning at their stiff joints and at the way the damp cold hit them as they emerged. Belle helped him up, pulling on one hand while he used his cane, grumbling about an old injury that she dared not ask about. They gathered up their thing then stood for a moment, staring at each other as they waited for the inevitable goodbye.

Belle found that didn’t want to say goodbye. “If you want,” she began, blushing furiously. “I could make breakfast?”

He looked at her, surprised at the offer before another smile broke across his features. Yes, definitely handsome, Belle thought as she stared up at him.

“I’d like that,” he said with a gentle smile.

Smiling back at him, she took him by the hand and led him to the stairwell that went up to her solitary apartment above the library, her sleeping bag trailing behind her.


	2. Storybrooke's First Annual Clean Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> joylee56 asked:  
> Sleepout Belle: Since your fund raiser for the sleep out was not terribly successful, (or did Mr. Gold make a large donation?) did your attempt at a public clean up come off better? Did Mr. Gold perhaps lend a hand with organizing it?

Belle put her hands on her waist and leaned back in a long, groaning stretch, finishing off with a heavy sigh as she rolled her head around to loosen any kinks that had built up in her neck. She was exhausted and grungy and smelled like old fish guts, but she was happy. Her beach cleanup had been a success. An actual, measurable improvement from when they’d started.

Mr. Gold’s idea of contacting Scout leaders for help turned out to be a brilliant one and there were at least several dozen boys and girls who had earned some sort of badge that morning. They had been enthusiastic and energetic and now there was a wide swath of clean beach where there had once been nothing but gunk.

Shaking out her arms, she began to gather up the trash bags to haul them up to the dumpster hired for the day. She grabbed them two by two and tossed each one in, enjoying the metallic thunking of the bags hitting the bottom, which soon turned into a soft squish as the bin filled up.

The shadows were stretched out like fun house mirrors by the time she was finished, but she couldn’t even bring herself to feel resentful of the time spent cleaning up the cleanup. 

The walk back to her apartment took her past Mr. Gold’s Pawnshop, but the lights were dark and his car nowhere to be seen, which was odd given that it wasn’t all that late in the day. She peered in the window just in case he was in the back, but the curtains were closed shut and the entire building dark and there was no Mr. Gold in sight.

Ever since the Sleepout, their relationship had flourished into a quiet friendship that astounded both the townspeople and herself. They hung out, for one, which was probably one of the weirdest things that had ever happened to her — hanging out with Mr. Gold, the human equivalent of Grumpy Cat. She liked him a lot, which was another supposedly weird thing that wasn’t all _that_ weird because once she got to know him, once she started to strip away those grumpy layers there was a sweet and earnest man beneath. He wanted to be liked. At least by her — she still had doubts about his opinions on other people, but he _definitely_ liked her. Probably almost as much as she did him. She had certainly begun to feel something decidedly _more_ than friendship for the man lately. Spending time with him was her favorite thing to do lately. His sweet nature and intelligent wit spoke to her in ways that no one else had and he only grew more special to her each day. She held a tiny bit of hope that he was feeling the same for her.

Which was why she was a bit disappointed that he didn’t show up at the cleanup that afternoon. She didn’t expect him to pick up trash, but he tended to drop by when she had her projects going on, either to lend moral support or actively participate. Well, he had his reasons she was sure, but that small bit of hurt stung sharply.

She tucked her hands into her jacket pockets and trudged across the street her, eyes barely leaving the tops of her shoes, her good mood slowly fizzling out and disappointment settling in now that her friend had decided to take the day off.

Maybe she had been too pushy? Maybe he needed space from her exuberant… affection. She did tend to get too attached to people, sometimes inappropriately so. Maybe she should back off and let him come to her. Let him catch up a bit. Let her guard her heart a bit, too, come to think of it.

She hopped up on the step and yanked the library doors open, breathing in the dusty, papery aroma of her beloved books before startling at the sound of a cheerful brogue greeting her.

Or, she realized with a blossoming warmth in her chest as she saw Mr. Gold waiting for her by the stairs leading up to her apartment with take-out in hand and a soft smile on his face, maybe he was two steps ahead of her.


	3. Storybrooke's Second Annual Sleepout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> still-searching47 asked:  
> Storybrooke's first annual winter sleepout: What happened the following year? Did they do it again? Did more people turn up or was it just the two of them? I'm guessing they are properly dating/engaged or something by then right?

Belle stretched out on the bricks in front of the library, slipping down into her sleeping bag until it covered nearly everything but her face. Gold had gladly offered the back balcony of his house for the event, but Belle reluctantly turned it down. Just in case someone showed up.

She didn’t actually expect anyone other than Gold to come, but she was determined on holding the event anyway. It was the principle of the thing. The Sleepout was a cause she believed in and, now that she and Gold have grown closer and he’d told her bits and pieces of his past, it became personal. She would sleep rough at least one night out of the year in honor of that boy freezing on the streets of Glasgow. It didn’t do any good for him now, but it might do some good for another young person like him.

The winter’s sky was already dark and, when her phone beeped its alarm indicating the start of the event, she looked over towards the pawnshop to see Gold just locking up. Belle admired him from her position on the pavement, watching as he strode over, all brisk and businesslike until he stepped up on the sidewalk and then his whole demeanor changed. His entire body simply relaxed when he saw her smiling at him and his face lit up from within.

She immediately opened up her sleeping bag for him and he didn’t even hesitate to crawl in after her. No words were spoken. None were needed. She knew what it meant to him that she would do this even if it was a token effort and he knew what it meant to her that he would forgo his comfort for one bitterly cold night to join her.

They settled themselves, wrapping arms and legs around each other to conserve heat, the heady scent of his leather jacket like perfume to her as she nuzzled her face against his chest, relishing the feel of him against her. She missed this closeness. It had been an entire year since they held each other like this. Gold had been hesitant to touch her in all that time and the sporadic hugs and tentative touches of his fingers against hers thrilled her to her core, but they were always fleeting and inconsistent. She was beginning to crave more.

Sometime between the first sleepout and the second their friendship had evolved naturally into something deeper until Belle had fallen head over heels in love with him. It hurt to think about sometimes, that feeling of rightness and belonging and utter devotion. She was certain that he felt the same for her. Gold was careful around her at first, his initial reserve slowly melting away to reveal a complex man who felt more than he let on until she could tell just by the expression in his eyes when she caught him staring — he loved her, too.

She wanted to tell him, but it felt too big to talk about. Every time she opened her mouth to let those three words slip out, she choked up with the weight of it, nothing but a squeak coming out. It didn’t matter if the words were said anyway. He knew.

A warmth that had nothing to do with body heat coursed through her veins and she squeezed him tighter as if she could somehow transfer the love she was feeling to him through osmosis. Her whole being was practically trembling with her affections and she needed him to understand that, even if she hadn’t said it out loud, she loved him more than anyone she had ever known.

They slept eventually, waking up stiff and sore from their night on the hard sidewalk. His arms were wrapped around her protectively, his face tucked in against her neck while his warm breath ghosted over her. She looked over at him, smiling sleepily as she bade him a good morning.

His breath hitched as he looked at her, eyes roaming over her face before he came to some internal decision. He leaned in and softly pressed his lips to hers, catching her mouth at the corner.

She clutched at him in surprise and turned her face so she could kiss him properly, swallowing the quiet sigh that escaped him as she pulled him in deeper. His lips were a bit chapped from their night spent outdoors, but then, so were hers. It didn’t matter. He was warm and delicious and hers and she never wanted this moment to end.

It did end at the sound of a car rolling to a stop at the light before turning towards the docks. Belle blinked her eyes open to find him watching her hopefully. Trustingly. Lovingly.

Belle had had enough and grasped the hair on the sides of his face, pulling him towards her until their lips met and opened up to him, tasting him for the first time.

Another car then another went by before they broke apart, gasping and smiling like fools. They extracted themselves from the sleeping bag and silently gathered up their belongings before heading into the library hand in hand.

Storybrooke’s Second Annual Winter Sleepout was to be followed immediately with Storybrooke’s First Annual Lie In and a Little Something More up in Belle’s apartment.


End file.
